


deep in my bones

by lostinsanity



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Exhibitionism, Football, M/M, Outdoor Sex, PWOP, dom!Louis, pre-concert sex, top!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:37:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinsanity/pseuds/lostinsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You have to promise me you’re going to be quiet, okay? Can’t let anyone know what I’m doing to you.”</p><p>In which Harry can't stop making noise and they're way too close to fans to take that chance... but they do anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	deep in my bones

**Author's Note:**

> [sighs heavily] kylie....
> 
> inspired by the recent rumor that harryandlouis were playing football together but were blocked by a bus so that the fans couldn't see. but of course, that doesn't mean the fans couldn't hear...

Harry’s always been shit at football, but every time Louis watches him play, he gets a laugh out of it, his long, gangly legs stumbling over his huge feet and his arms flailing all over the place as he tries to chase after the ball that rolls right between his feet. He’s like a damned string bean. Louis knows the sport is more for people that actually have control of their limbs, but even though Harry sucks, he loves it, and Louis doesn’t want to ruin that. At all.

Harry, just now, kicks the ball towards Louis, or at least tries to. The ball goes spinning out to the side, whacking up against the fence, and Louis has to go fetch it, which means he’ll be within five metres of about six million screaming fans who would just about scale the barbed wire and skin themselves to get to them. He sighs, smiles and waves to the girls who nearly break the sound barrier shrieking before kicking the ball at Harry with as much force as he possibly can. It flies off the ground and socks him in the upper thigh, and he doubles over, face twisted into a grimace turned into a smile turned into a look that just says “I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Thanks,” Harry grunts, shaking out his leg and limping in circles around Louis. He’s faking, of course.

Louis shrugs, dribbling the ball between his feet a bit before kicking it up and bouncing it on his knee and letting it drop. “No problem.” Harry watches in awe as Louis continues to play around with the ball, jaw nearly hitting him in the damn nuts. “What?” Louis asks slyly, feigning innocence. As if he doesn’t know that Harry idolizes him for being a football god.

Harry shrugs, rolling his eyes and giving in and waving at the, still screaming, fans. He turns to Louis, sucking in a deep breath, and asks, “How can we get them to shut up and stop spying on us? They’ve probably taken about seven billion photos already.”

Louis shrugs, looking around at the busses they’re surrounded by on two sides. He gets an idea. He picks up the ball and chucks it at Harry as hard as possible (it hits him in the stomach, but he catches it), and runs off towards their security, who’re guarding the gate to get into the fenced-off lot. Harry stays where he is and putts around with the ball, trying to dribble it like Louis did but only succeeding in nearly tripping and skinning his whole face on the pavement. He stops and just rolls the ball around under his foot, watching as Louis jogs back with one of the security guards.

“What’s he doing?” Harry asks when the guard unlocks one of the extra buses and goes inside, closing the door behind him. Louis gets up to Harry and kicks the ball out from beneath his foot, and Harry loses his balance and faceplants right into Louis’ tattooed chest with a muffled “oof”.

Louis chuckles as Harry stands upright, rubbing at his nose. “Klutz,” he mutters, picking up the ball and tucking it beneath his arm. “He’s moving the bus to block the fence so they can’t see us anymore. It’ll at least tone down the screaming a little bit.”

The two of them wait for the bus to move over the open gap between the other two buses before Louis puts down the ball and kicks it up against the wall of the building they’re boxed in by, volleying it with himself. They’re surrounded by buses on three sides and the wall of the venue on the other, and there’s really no way anyone could see them unless they climbed on top of the bus, so Louis figured they had enough privacy.

“Hey, come here,” he says, turning to kick the ball at Harry. Harry immediately kicks it right back, but it rolls right past Louis, who pays absolutely no attention to it as Harry scampers over to him. It bounces against the wall and rolls past, stopping when it hits the wheel of one of the busses.

Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s torso and cuddles up against his chest, and Harry’s arms immediately hold Louis closer to him. “I want to be able to do this all the time,” Louis mumbles, and Harry “hmphs” in response, nodding up against Louis’ hair.

“Show me your face,” Harry says quietly (well, as quietly as he can, because the fans are still damn screaming), “so I can kiss you.”

Louis listens and looks up, and Harry’s lips are on his, pressing down softly, the feeling familiar and warm and lovely. Louis pulls away, blinking slowly, before bringing Harry back for another kiss, deeper this time. He traces his tongue against Harry’s bottom lip and they part, letting Louis’ tongue in as Harry’s hands move from the small of Louis’ back to the back of his neck to knocking off his beanie and tangling in his hair. Louis pulls Harry closer and closer and closer, moving backward more and more, until Harry’s back slaps against the bus and they snap apart, looking around.

“You know,” Louis whispers, lips brushing against Harry’s ear, sending a shiver up his spine. “Nobody can see us right now.” He pushes his hand down Harry’s side, catching a bit of skin where his tshirt meets his jeans, and starts to palm him through his pants. He’s already half-hard and quickly growing harder. “We could do whatever we want.”

Harry swallows thickly, looking down into Louis’ mess of hair as he pulls back and looks at him with those blue eyes, blown filthily. “Yeah?” Harry mumbles, watching the corners of Louis’ mouth as they curl up into a smirk. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis repeats, fingers popping the button on Harry’s jeans and slowly easing down the zipper. His words are long, slow, drawn out. “Anything... we... want.”

Harry nods, tilting his head back as Louis sucks a lovebite against the thick vein in his neck, dark and harsh against the paleness of his skin. The makeup crew will hate him for this, but Louis couldn’t care less.

“You know what I want?” Louis asks, lips brushing so lightly against the skin on Harry’s neck, raising goosebumps beneath them. “I want to fuck you up against this bus so hard that you’ll be struggling to walk around on stage tonight.”

“Oh dear god,” Harry lets out, closing his eyes as Louis moves in to kiss him again, slipping his jeans and boxers down to his knees.

“One leg out,” Louis mumbles, tapping Harry’s bare left thigh with his fingertips. “Not gonna totally strip you in the middle of a lot.” Harry listens, kicking his leg out, while Louis smiles at his cock, flush and pink against his stomach. Harry looks at him expectantly, eyes wide and begging silently. Louis digs into his pocket and reaches his wallet, pulling it out and grabbing a packet of lube before stuffing the wallet back into his pocket.

“Please,” Harry whines softly, head ducked and voice low. “Please, Louis.”

“I am, baby,” Louis assures him, tearing open the lube packet with his teeth and coating his fingers with it and holding it with his other hand. “You have to promise me you’re going to be quiet, okay? Can’t let anyone know what I’m doing to you.”

Harry nods vigorously, but he’s already broken that promise once Louis presses a finger to Harry’s rim, earning a soft moan from deep in his throat.

“I said be quiet,” Louis hisses, shoving his finger the rest of the way in. Harry chokes on his own spit and coughs, surprised by the sudden intrusion, but biting his lip and closing his eyes to try and keep himself from making any noise. Louis wriggles another finger in, stretching Harry quickly and steadily, scissoring them and crooking until he’s got Harry whining and moaning again.

“Louis,” Harry groans, face flushed and cheeks pink and blotchy, breathless. “I need you inside of me right now.”

Louis pulls his fingers out and holds the packet of lube between his teeth, using his free hand to push his own pants and boxers down to his knees. His own cock is hard and swollen and throbbing, aching to fuck Harry as hard and rough as he can, right up against the cold wall of the bus. He squeezes the rest of the lube onto his hand and coats himself with it before hiking Harry’s free leg up around his waist, placing his hands on Harry’s little arse cheeks, and lining himself up with Harry’s hole.

“You make one fucking sound,” he says over the murmur of the fans in the background, “and I’m not fucking you for a week.”

He slams in, and Harry makes a choking noise, deep in his throat. It’s barely audible, so Louis lets it go as he adjusts to Harry’s tightness and warmth and holy shit.

“Louis, move,” Harry growls, chest heaving and eyes screwed closed. “For chrissake, fucking move.”

Louis nods, smirking to himself before pulling all the way out and shoving back in as hard as he possibly can. Harry squeaks a bit and his foot lifts up off the ground, hips coming up with Louis’ thrust, back pressing against the bus behind him, before he lowers back to the ground in a breathless manner.

“Lou--” Harry begins, but Louis presses his lips against Harry’s roughly to shush him.

“Thought I told you to be quiet,” he reminds Harry after he pulls away and out, and he thrusts back in, angling his hips up to try and hit Harry where he knows will make him make the most noise of all.

It works, and Harry’s struggling to keep quiet as Louis slams in and out of him, each one lifting Harry up off the ground. Harry’s tight and damp and warm and Louis has never felt anything so fucking good as his cock slides in and out of Harry’s tight little hole, over and over. He digs his fingers into Harry’s cheeks and looks up to find him nearly in tears, lip bitten and face flushed while his hands pull on the straps of Louis’ tank top.

“Louis, fucking hell,” he groans, voice rough and totally wrecked. It sounds like he’s falling apart as Louis thrusts into him again, hitting his prostate, and Harry moans loud enough to nearly drown out the sound of the fans.

Louis digs his fingers deeper and shoves even harder into Harry, lifting him up off the ground, Harry’s back pressing into the cold metal of the bus, feeling Harry’s leg tighten around Louis’ waist and listening to those gorgeous little whimpers he’s letting out, thinking that Louis can’t hear them, that the fans can’t hear them.

“You don’t listen, do you,” Louis mutters, breathlessly, shakily. His hips begin to go erratic, but he just keeps slamming into Harry, hitting him in the prostate, earning stolen moans and whines and whimpers, and Harry’s getting louder and louder and fucking louder and Louis wouldn’t be surprised if there were an audio clip of this around the whole Internet by the time they got out of the concert. “Can’t fucking keep quiet.”

“I’m--I’m sorry--I--,” Harry’s apologies are staggered and useless and his hands go from Louis back to wrap around his own cock, neglected and painfully hard. Harry’s so close he can feel it, fucking euphoria, white-hot orgasm building up in his stomach and pushing itself up with each sound he shouldn’t be making but does anyway.

“They can hear us,” Louis teases, and he’s losing control as he slaps Harry’s hand off himself. “Don’t touch yourself,” he commands, louder than he should have. “You’re going to come from just my cock. God, you’re so fucking tight.”

Harry whimpers wetly, and it sounds more like a sob, because he needs to touch himself, he has to, but he knows that if he does Louis will punish him. “Louis, m’gonna... fuck,” he groans, and with each of Louis’ final thrusts his moans grow louder and louder and louder until he fucking screams Louis’ name, his voice so rough and loud as he comes onto Louis’ chest that Louis gives up any hope of keeping quiet and lets out a desperate moan, almost as loud as Harry’s, and soon he’s coming too, vision going white and head tossed back and Harry’s still so so tight that Louis feels as if he’s going to collapse right there. His muscles, every bit of his body is shaking and trembling as he rides out his orgasm, breathing heavily, and when Harry whimpers from the overstimulation he pulls out, knocking his head against Harry’s chest and just breathing.

“Dear God,” Louis mumbles. “We’re going to be on the goddamn news tomorrow.” But Harry doesn’t listen, he’s blissed out and fluid and if Louis didn’t take it into his own hands to get Harry’s jeans back on and drag him into the dressing room through the back door, he’d be a puddle around Louis’ feet. They get inside, escaping the noise of the goddamn fans, and collapse onto the sofa, sticky with come and sweat and maybe this wasn’t a great idea but there’s a shower somewhere in the building and they’ve got a few hours before the show anyway.

“You don’t listen,” Louis tells Harry, and Harry just blinks at him, eyes glazed. “M’gonna fucking punish you next time for not listening.”

“Sorry,” Harry murmurs, and Louis can’t do anything but kiss him.


End file.
